Pages

Friday, June 29, 2012

You would never get away with
putting “squab pie” on the menu today, if it contained mutton instead of baby
pigeon, although you would be correct from a culinary history point of view.
Even though the Oxford English Dictionary
defines “squab” as (a) “A newly-hatched, unfledged, or very young bird” and (b)
specifically “a young pigeon”, it defines “squab pie” as being “chiefly
composed of mutton, pork, apples, and onions, with a thick crust.” Why is it so?

You might get away with your menu
item if you qualified it as “Devonshire Squab Pie”, because you could claim it
as a traditional recipe from that particular part of the world, which is famous
for its apples (and cider). A genuine Devonshire Squab Pie is made from mutton
and apples. There were apple types specifically grown for inclusion in squab
pies, and there are many recipes in old cookbooks that would support your
claim. But how did it all come about?

The mixture of meat and fruit in
a pie goes back to mediaeval times, when there was no distinction between the
ideas of sweet and savoury dishes: the original mincemeat pie really did have
meat and suet in it, as well as fruit and sugar. This does not, however,
explain the substitution of mutton for pigeon. Why were they simply not called
mutton pies?

It is unlikely that the intention
was to deceive the consumer (pie bakers would surely never do that?) – such a
widespread deception would hardly have succeeded, and in any case, there does
not seem to have been any attempt to keep the contents a secret.

Genuine pigeon pies were food for
the rich, who could afford to keep dovecotes on their land. They were virtually
the only source of fresh meat over the winter until the development of crops
such as turnips, which allowed animals to be fed until spring. Pigeon pies
became the symbol of the rich man’s table: they were obligatory at all grand
banquets, such as on Lord Mayor’s day, and frequently appeared at the aristocrat’s
breakfast. Mutton pies were the food of the common man, if he was lucky.

Perhaps “squab pies” were the
peasants’ own inside joke, as they filled out their meagre pie filling with
apple and onion, and sometimes potato? Some explanations say that the taste of
mutton plus apples plus onions was similar to pigeon, which only seems likely
to someone who has not eaten pigeon regularly. More likely, if it was a joke,
it was directed at the peasants in the form of a snobbish slur, much like the
ethnic slur of “welsh rabbit” (which became welsh rarebit) – the implication
being that the Welsh were too stupid or too lazy to catch rabbits, so had to
make do with toasted cheese instead.

The least likely explanation, but
my personal preference, is from a small Devonshire cookbook in my possession,
which says that it comes from “Squabble Pie,” or the compromise pie when the
master is demanding meat pie and the mistress wanting apple!

Whatever the explanation, what
seems certain is that eventually the combination became one of local pride; a
local specialty was born, and Devonshire people would insist: “Mutton and
apples, onions and dough, Make the best pie that ever I know”.

Of course, there are always
regional and seasonal variations, and fluctuations in supply of ingredients to
bedevil pie-bakers, but luckily these are the most creative folk (as I am sure
readers will agree). Although the commonest ingredient for squab pies in old
cookbooks is mutton, there were others. Cheshire had its “Cheshire Pork Pie”,
which does not seem so strange: apples are a commonly accepted accompaniment to
pork, because pigs have often been turned into the orchards to feel on fallen
apples. In Shropshire, “Fitchett Pie” (so called because it was originally made
in a “fitched” or five-sided tin) was made with bacon. If there was no meat at
all, there was no problem: I have seen reference to both a fish version, and a
wartime meatless recipe, which had lentils or haricot beans and was served with
gravy made from Marmite™. The only constant ingredients in all versions are the
apples and onions.

The pie even made it to
Australia. In 1848, the young Annabella Boswell, of Lake Innes, near port
Macquarie wrote in her diary of her cooking attempts:

“I picked some fresh apples for a
squab pie … Afterward, finding that the cook was out, I carried my materials to
the marble slab and determined to make
the pie myself – but before I tell what
this famous squab pie was composed of I shall give my opinion of its merits by
saying that though it is possible I may make another, it is highly improbable
that I shall taste it, Mr. Hugh was of a different opinion, or pretended to be,
for he dined on it – and insisted on doing so, the pie is made of layers of
apple and beef steak covered with pie crust, and baked, pepper and salt of
course, but cook says I should have added an onion.”

The first Australian cookbook was
not published until 1864, well after Annabella’s attempts, but it did contain a
version of the traditional recipe:

Devonshire Squab Pie.

Lay mutton-chops, or mutton, at
the bottom of the dish; on the meat strew some onions, with pepper, salt, a
little sugar, and half a tea-cupful of water. Place on the top apples and
potatoes, in layers, cut thin; cover the sides and top of the dish with crust,
and bake well.

If you still insist on putting
real pigeon squab in your pies, it is important to remember that the fatter
they are, the better. We can learn from wiser folks in older times as to how to
ensure this. Firstly, if you happen upon a pigeon nest with very new-born
chicks in it, tie each of them down by one leg, so that they cannot escape. The
parents will continue to return to feed their slow young ones until they are
fat enough for you. Alternatively, if
you prefer to get your live squabs from a live squab supplier, you can give
them a final fattening up by following the advice in this magazine article from
1886.

“The extraordinary demand in
England for squabs has led to their importation in very large numbers from
Germany and France. These are taken by professional feeders and fattened in a
peculiar manner. I remember once witnessing the process in operation in London.
The feeder was an elderly man with flabby, sallow cheeks and protruding eyes,
long matted hair … In a tub of water was a quantity of millet and split peas.
The feeder crammed his mouth with them until his cheeks swelled out to hideous
proportions. Catching up a young bird and inserting its open beak between his
lips, the feeder injected its crop full ... The astonished bird at once assumed
a complacent look. With the greatest rapidity bird after bird was picked up and
the food thus blown into each. The feeders get about two cents for each dozen
birds thus fed, and when it is remembered that they can fill a bird with a rapidity
which excels the mechanical bottling of soda-water, it is easily seen that the
professors are enabled to earn a tolerably good living at their novel calling.
The birds are fed by this process twice a day, and in several days become fat
and very tender.”

Sounds like a catchy marketing
phrase – “Fattened on the premises”, doesn’t it?

Quotation for the Day.

When
you die, if you get a choice between going to regular heaven or pie heaven,
choose pie

heaven.
It might be a trick, but if it's not, mmmmmmmm, boy.Jack Handy.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

As many of you are aware, I am currently in the UK having some general fun before the fun of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery begins in a little over a week. I have been spending a few days inWhitby on the Yorkshire coast. It is a small town famous for being the setting for Bram Stoker's Dracula, and as the place where Capain James Cook learned his seafaring skills.

The town is inextricably linked with the sea. It was once the centre of a massive ship-building centre (Cook's famous ship the Endeavour was built here,) but first and foremost, Whitby is about fishing. I have thoroughly tested its fish and chips since I have been here, and can personally vouch for their general excellence.

The main fish-and-chip shop fish are cod and haddock, but a lesser known product of the area is kippers (smoked herring.). There is an interesting notice on the wall adjacent to the stove in the self-catering apartment where I am staying in Whitby, the like of which I have never seen before. It reads:

Kippers.
Kippers leave an odour which cannot be readily removed. Therefore cooking and consuming kippers on the premises is not allowed.
Should you smoke or consume kippers, this will result in a £100 room recovery charge in order for us to restore the accommodation back to a satisfactory condition.

Not a notice likely to encourage kipper newbies to try them out, is it?

There is another interesting thing about kippers in this region. The local cafes serve them with a side of strawberry jam. There are references to this combination elsewhere, and sometimes to the brushing of the kippers with jam before grilling, but I have not been able to find out anything else about the tradition, or how widespread it is, in the short time I have been here and with the reduced resources I have available while I am travelling. I am most intrigued by this concept, so if you know of it, and can add anything, please do!

For those of you who prefer to keep your kippers firmly in the savoury camp, the following recipes are for especially for you.

Filleted Devilled Kipper on Toast.
Fillet the kipper in the usual way. Butter some toast. Place fillet on top and cut into any shape you may fancy. Put a little grated cheese, cayenne pepper or black pepper, a pinch of breadcrumbs, and a little butter. Put in paper bag and place on grid.
Allow five minutes in a very hot oven (350 deg.Fahr.)
Soyer's Standard Cookery (1912) by Nicolas Soyer

Your raiment, O herring, displays the rainbow colors of the setting sun, the patina on old copper, the golden-brown of Cordoba leather, the autumnal tints of sandalwood and saffron. Your head, O herring, flames like a golden helmet, and your eyes, are like black studs in circlets of copper.
- Joris Karl Huysmans (1848-1907

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

About travel, the writer James Michener
said “If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid
the people, you might better stay at home.” This is as wise as travel wisdom gets.

Travel is no longer a rare event, available
only to the lucky or adventurous few, as it was in the past. Nowadays we are
all familiar (or can easily become familiar), with the food and customs of any
land that we might chose to visit. I am deeply puzzled by those modern
travelers who go to the expense and trouble of ‘going overseas’ and then do reject the food, customs, and people
they meet. In the past, I think, this attitude was more understandable (but no
less silly and unforgiveable) because the traveler was, by definition,
well-off, and therefore of ‘a certain class’- and more likely to take class and
national prejudices along with the physical baggage.

The New York Daily Times in 1857 published an account by a
traveller and ‘special correspondent’ of a voyage on the Nile. There were eighteen
crew and twenty-two passengers aboard the Phantom,
and the voyage was to take three months. The writer has the usual (for the era)
patronising tone when he discusses the locals. The captain is a ‘tolerably good sort of fellow
in his way’, and the boatmen ‘of all shades of colour’ use a ‘respectable
English tone’ towards the lady guests. He waxes lyrical about the ‘thousand
comforts’ aboard the vessel, basks in the ‘delicious’ weather, is suitably awed
by the grand sights, and takes with enthusiasm to the loose, comfortable ‘Eastern
articles’ of clothing which they adopt in the evening. But the food – with the
exception of some token exotic fruit and sweets, is straight from home.

The writer notes that the boatmen have
bread and onions for breakfast. For the guests, however, ‘…. breakfast … is
always delicious; coffee of Mocha, and eggs whitened with lemons before the
water touches them, and a broiled bird and chop’

Dinner is even more elaborate. The writer goes
on to say:

“. ….. giving our bill of fare for dinner today. I give you my
solemn assurance that this is a correct list of the articles on our dinner
table today, and this is on a Nile boat, ten days out from Cairo: Macaroni
Soup, boiled chicken, fried brains, roast lamb, roast pigeon, roast wild goose,
fricasseed chickens, macaroni au gratin,
potatoes, plain and mashed, native beans, and the usual pickles and other small
articles. For the last course, custards in cups, plum pudding, patés of sweet preserves, calf’s foot
jelly, with pomegranate, and then fruit, oranges, apples, pomegranates, figs,
dates, and finally a delicate conserve of citron, rose-flavored, and rahot-lo-koom*, know[n] in America as
fig-paste, though there is no more fig in it than there is fine-cut. Nor is
this an unusual fare. I have given today’s bill of fare because I can remember it
more easily. But yesterday, and every day, it was the same, and will be the
same, I doubt not so, so long as we are on the river.”

[*lokum, or ‘Turkish
Delight’]

As the recipe for the day,
I give you fig paste (made with figs, believe it, or not.)

Fig
Paste.

Fig paste is easily made: pare the figs when ripe; mash and spread
upon dishes and set in the sun; so soon as you can turn, without tearing, take
a knife and slip it under the paste and turn it over – this will be on the
second day after the past is put out. When dry, sift some sugar, and place two
or three sheets of paste one upon the other, with a press on the top. To dry
the figs, select those that are ripe but still firm – pare – leaving on the stem
or not is a matter of taste; place on dishes in the sun; should be turned over
at least once during the day; if it should be over-ripe it will be liable to
sour – turn dark etc.

Our
Home Journal, Vol.
II (New Orleans, 1871)

Quotation for the Day.

So counsel'd he, and both together went
Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose
The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renowned,
But such as at this day to Indians known
In Malabar or Decan spreads her
arms,
Branching so broad
and long, that in the ground
The
bended twigs take rood, and daughters grow
About
the mother tree, a pillar'd shade
High
overarch'd, and echoing walks between.
-John Milton, Paradise Lost

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Now here
is a new (to me) idea – solid beer! Who would have thought it? Just the thing to
wash down your portable soup and meat
biscuit. From The Food Journal Volume
1 (London, 1871), I give you the following enlightening information:

“The age produces
some queer paradoxes, and none more so than in the results of manufacturing
science. In former days it was the custom to buy bread, and even beef, by the
yard; but we believe that it is only in the present day that we can get our
beer by the pound. By a very simple process, introduced by Mr. Mertens, the wort,
after being made in a mash-tub of malt and hops in the usual manner, is sucked
up by a pipe into a large vacuum (exhausted by an air-pump), and then
persistently worked round and round, while the moisture is evaporated. The wort
emerges from its tribulations with a pasty consistence, and is allowed to fall
from a considerable height into air-tight boxes, in which it reposes, like
hard-bake. It soon gets exceedingly tough, that it has to be broken up with a
chisel and mallet, and, in that condition, is easily sent abroad, or to any
part of the world, for people to brew their own malt liquor. We have had the
wort subjected to analysis, the results of which, in 100 parts, who that there
is almost absolute purity:- Gum 64.219; sugar, 20.664; lupulin (the active
principle of hops), 2.000; albumenous matter, 0.600; mineral matter, 1.500;
moisture, 11.017.”

There is
another way to make solid beer (or ale). From the same journal, I give you:-

Ale Jelly.

Put an ox-foot into three quarts
of water; boil it till it leaves the bones quite bare; strain the stock, and when
it is cold and the fat removed, cut it into four, and put it into the pan with
1lb. of Lisbon sugar, the juice of three lemons (with the rind, pared very
thin) seven cloves, a small teaspoonful of powdered cinnamon, and
three-quarters of a pint of very weak pale-coloured beer (say a pint of Bass’s
ale); when these are all in the pan, add, lastly, two eggs well beaten, the
whites and shells of three others;
boil for five minutes, quickly, stirring all the time; when it has risen up
well in the pan, take it off the fire, and set it on the ground without
stirring it. While settling, the jelly bag will be found quite clear by the
time a pint has been run through, so that another vessel must be in readiness;
and as soon as it runs clear, the finest must be put back very gently into the
bag, so as not to shake it. The clearness depends on its quick boiling, and the
quantity, on having the material that surrounds the bag well heated, so as not
to chill it. A metal mould should be used, as the jelly will not turn out of
earthenware.

Quotation
for the Day.

I have fed purely upon all; I
have eat my ale; drank my ale, and I always sleep upon ale.

Monday, June 25, 2012

I have a
new-old beverage to remind you about today. A beverage made from an infusion of
roasted coffee leaves. We have considered it before, in a previous blog post
(here), but I have a little more to add to the story.

There
may be some of you who have tried to grow your own coffee, but are in the wrong
climate, or have poor gardening skills, and cannot get your trees to fruit well
enough - this story is especially for you.

The
source for the previous blog post on ‘coffee leaf tea’ was dated 1854. It
appears that the concept was still a novelty a decade and a half later. A new monthly
publication appeared in London in 1871, with the aim “to treat of food in every
possible aspect and variety, and particularly in its national bearings …”. It
was called, simply, The Food Journal. The following extract is taken from an article
entitled Coffee Leaves vs Tea Leaves, in Volume 1.

“Of the hot drinks
that form the daily refreshment of the human race, infusions of leaves stand
pre-eminent, and especially those derived from one or other of the various tea
plants, which are consumed by more people than all the others united. … Somewhat
akin to tea is mate, the leaves of
the Ilex Paraguayensis, or Brazilian
holly. Although not consumed over such a wide area as tea proper, it is as much
the universal beverage of the southern American republics as China and Assam
tea are of Europe and Asia…

It must be evident
even to the most desultory reader that any new product capable of use as tea or
maté, and containing a fair proportion of the same chemical constituent which
distinguishes them [theine and caffeine], is entitled to a niche in popular
favour. Such position we claim for prepared coffee leaves. So far back as the
year 1845, Professor Blume, of Leyden, who had spent much time in Java, pointed
out that an infusion of roasted coffee leaves had from time immemorial been a
favourite beverage amongst the natives of the Eastern archipelago. In Sumatra,
especially, it formed the only drink of the entire population. Mr Ward,
resident many years at Pedang, in Sumatra, thus wrote to the Pharmaceutical Journal (vol. xiii, page
208): “As a beverage, the natives universally prefer the leaf to the berry,
giving as a reason that it contains more of the bitter principle [theine or
caffeine], and is more nutritious.” This is borne out by analysis, it being
found that roasted coffee leaves contain about 1.25 per cent of theine or
caffeine (the same amount present in mate), prepared coffee beans only yielding
from 0.117 to 1.08 per cent. The same author continues: “In the low lands,
coffee is not planted for the berry, not being sufficiently productive; but for
the leaf, people plant it round their houses for their own use. It is an undoubted
fact that everywhere they prefer the leaf to the berry. While culture of the
coffee plant for its fruit is limited to particular soils and more elevated
climates, it may be grown for the leaf wherever, within the tropics, the soil
is sufficiently fertile.”

If you
have tried this beverage, do let us know. Is it prepared and sold commercially
anywhere? If not, why not? As the above writer indicated, there is always room
for another leaf beverage.

As the Recipe for the Day, I give you a nice
coffee cake from the 1870’s.

Coffee
Cake.

The ingredients are: one cupful
of coffee (left cold from breakfast), one cupful of butter, one cupful and a
half of sugar, one cupful of molasses, five cupfuls of flour, one teaspoonful of
soda, some raisins, and whatever spices you prefer.

Arthur’s
Illustrated Home Magazine
(Philadelphia, 1870)

Quotation
for the Day.

Resolve to free yourselves from
the slavery of the tea and coffee and other slop-kettles.

Friday, June 22, 2012

I understand that in the days of long sea voyages, with fresh water
at a premium, sea-water was used for cooking. Salted meat was a staple food of
these voyages, and we know it was often very old, very hard and very salty
indeed – so salty that the day’s ration was sometimes attached to a rope and
towed behind the ship to reduce its saltiness. Then it was cooked in salt
water, or at least a percentage of salt water. How palatable – and how salty –
must it have been?

I also understand that fishermen occasionally also cook their catch
in seawater, not out of necessity, but because they believe it enhances the
flavour.

Although I had heard these stories, I had never actually seen
sea-water given as the cooking liquid of choice until I discovered a recipe in
the famous Alexis Soyer’s book The
Pantropheon, or, History of Food and its Preparation (1853.) I don’t know if Soyer ever actually cooked the
following recipe, but he suggests that was a dish enjoyed by the Ancient
Romans.

Quarter of Wild Boar a la Thébaine.

Cook it in sea water with bay leaves. When very tender take off the
skin, and serve with salt, mustard, and vinegar.

A little reading around this idea of using seawater as a cooking
liquid led to some information on a ‘gastronomic delight’ from the Canary Islands
called Patatas Arrugadas, or ‘wrinkled
potatoes.’ This is a dish of unpeeled new potatoes cooked in seawater , then
dried briefly over the heat, leaving them with a powdery, salty skin. A couple
of other sources also suggested that these are also enjoyed in the Shetland and
Orkney islands.

Patatas Arugadas would be an interesting recipe to follow around the world. It appears
that it must have made its way from the Canaries, or Shetlands, or Orkneys, to
Syracuse, NY, if The Complete Cook Book
(Philadelphia, 1900), by Jennie Day Reese, is correct. Please let us all know
if you have heard of them, eaten them, or know something about their history.

Hot Salt Potatoes.

In every locality there is
always a favorite dish that once partaken of by "strangers within her
gates," is forever connected with that particular city or place.
Philadelphia scrapple is as well known "down east" as Boston's beans
and brown bread, and in the central city of New York State, Syracuse, is served
a tid-bit that outshines them all, and one which courts favor among the male
citizens. The name of this dish is hot salt potatoes, prepared thus: Enough
brine is bought at the salt yards to fill a kettle three-quarters full.
Medium-sized smooth potatoes are scrubbed clean and put into the boiling brine,
covered and left to boil until a straw will pierce the vegetables; then they
are drained and served piping hot. When eating these they are never cut; the
ends are pressed with the fingers, which bursts open the center, pop in a
generous lump of good butter, and the delicious tid-bit will be relished. The
outside will be covered with salt crystals, the inside mealy, white and
permeated with a relishing seasoning.

Quotation for the Day.

Without the potato, the balance of European power might never have
tilted north.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Today we have some final advice from the
book that has been our source for the week - Jennie June's American Cookery Book (1870). It seems to me that of
all the advice we have culled from the book this week, these ‘rules’ are the
most enduring and relevant.

RULES FOR EATING.

1. Eat slowly as if it was
a pleasure you desired to prolong, rather than a duty to be got rid of as
quickly as possible.

3. Respect the hours of
meals, you have no right to injure the temper of the cook, destroy the flavor
of the viands, and the comfort of the family, by your want of punctuality.

4. Have as much variety in
your food as possible, but not many dishes served at one time.

5. Find as little fault
with the food prepared as possible, and praise whenever you can.

6. Finally, be thankful, if
you have not meat, that you have at least an appetite, and hope for something
more and better in the future.

I feel like something a
little indulgent now, so here, from the book, is the recipe for a rich sponge.

Almond Sponge Cake.

Ten eggs, one pound of
sugar, half pound of flour, a few drops of lemon. When these ingredients are
well beaten, add half-pound of sweet almonds, blanched, and pounded in a white
mortar or stout bowl. To blanch them - that is, skin them - pour boiling water
upon them. Add a little peach extract, and bake in a brisk oven. This is very
rich.

Quotation for the Day.

Eating rice cakes is like
chewing on a foam coffee cup, only less filling.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

I just cant resist sticking with Jennie
June's American Cookery Book (1870) for a couple more days, as it still has
treats in store for us.

Today I give you in their entirety the ‘Hints on Economy’ from the
book. I particularly draw your attention to the exhortation to wear pretty
morning dress (protected by an apron of course), because it is advice entirely
lacking in every modern cookery book I have ever read.

HINTS ON ECONOMY.

PROVIDE ON SATURDAY for Monday, so as not to take up the fire with
cooking, or time in running errands, any more than is possible on washing day.

WAIT TILL ARTICLES, fruit, fish, poultry and vegetables, are in full
season, before purchasing. They are then not only much lower in price than when
first brought to market, but finer in quality and flavor.

OUTSIDE GARMENTS, bonnets, cloaks, hats, shawls, scarfs and the
like, will last clean and fresh much longer, if the dust is carefully removed
from them by brushing and shaking after returning from a ride or a walk.

WHEN YOUR APPLES begin to rot, pick the specked ones out carefully;
stew them up with cider and sugar, and fill all your empty self-sealing cans.
In this way you may keep in nice apple sauce till apples come again.

PICKLE OR PRESERVE JARS should be washed in lukewarm or cold water,
and dried in the sun or near the fire. Hot water cracks the polished surface of
the inside, and renders them unfit for their specific use.

NEVER ALLOW CHILDREN to eat butter with meat or gravy; it is both
wasteful and injurious.

HOT BUCKWHEAT CAKES will go farther and last longer than any other
single article of food. A celebrated judge declared that he could remain in
court all day, without feeling a symptom of hunger, after a breakfast of
buckwheat cakes.

A STEW is not a bad dish for a family dinner, once a week; make it
of good meat, and savory with sweet herbs, and the most fastidious will not
object to it.

RISE EARLY on fine summer mornings, and throw all the windows of the
house open, so that it may exchange its close atmosphere, for the cool, fresh
air. Have the work done before the heat of the day comes on, and save it as
much as possible during the warmest weather.

TAKE CARE OF THE FOOD that is brought into the house, and see that
none of it is wasted; but do not be always on the lookout for cheap things.
Beans are cheap, and very good sometimes; corn meal is cheap too, and even more
available, because it can be made into a great variety of dishes, but people
would not care to live on beans and corn meal all the time, because they are
cheap. Eating is intended as a means of enjoyment, as well as of sustaining
life; and it is right to avail ourselves of the abundant resources provided, as
far as we can consistently.

USE TEA LEAVES, or short, freshly cut grass, to sprinkle upon
carpets before sweeping. It will freshen up the colors, and save the usual
cloud of dust.

HAVE EVERYTHING CLEAN, on Saturday night, something nice for tea,
and also for Sunday morning breakfast. Let the approach of the Sabbath be
anticipated in all things, with pleasure. Stay at home with the children on
Sabbath evening, and finish the day with a sacred concert.

ALLOW NO HOLES, or corners in the house, in drawers, on shelves, or
in closets, for the stowing away of dirty rags, old bottles, grease-pots, and
broken crockery. When bottles are emptied, let them be cleaned, and put down in
the cellar, until they are wanted. Harbor no dirty grease pots, and when an
article is broken past recovery, throw it away at once; there is no use in
keeping it to collect dust, and cobwebs.

MAKE A POINT of examining safe, refrigerator, closets, drawers, and
all receptacles for food, and kitchen articles, at least as often as once a
week, either Saturday, or washing day. Look into pickle jars, bread jars, cake
jars, butter tubs, apple, and potato barrels, everything in fact, examine their
condition, see if they are kept covered and clean, and that food put away, is
not left to spoil, or be wasted.

THE FEWER SERVANTS THE BETTER--two requires a third to wait upon them,
and so on ad infinitum. Have good servants however, pay good wages, and make
them responsible for their work.

IF IT IS POSSIBLE, and when there is a will there is a way, call
your household together, after breakfast every morning, and have domestic worship,
be it ever so short. A verse of a hymn, a passage from the Bible, and just a
few words of heartfelt prayer, and praise, sets everything right for the day,
smooths ruffled tempers, and puts the domestic machine in nicely running order.
It is also no bad preparation for the temptations and annoyances of business.

BEFORE SWEEPING a room, have the furniture, and especially all the
small articles, dusted and removed. This keeps them looking fresh, and new.

WEAR PRETTY MORNING DRESSES; they are inexpensive, and easily
preserved from injury, by a large calico apron enveloping the skirt of the
dress, and sleeves of the same kind, gathered into a band, top, and bottom, and
extending over the elbows. These can be slipped on and off in a minute, and
with a bib added to the apron in front, affords complete protection, while
engaged in dusting, making pastry, and the like.

ALWAYS HAVE YOUR TABLE served neatly, and then if friends
"happen in," you will not be ashamed to ask them to share your meal.
Be hospitable, if it is only a crust, and a cup of cold water; if it is clean
and good of its kind, there is no reason to blush for it; the hearty welcome
will make amends for the absence of rich viands.

IF CHILDREN WANT ANYTHING between meals, which they should not, give
them a cracker, or an apple; do not encourage an irregular and unhealthy
appetite, by giving them pie, cake, or ginger-bread.

The obvious choice for the recipe for the
day is the buckwheat cakes from the book.

Buckwheat Cakes.

Take equal quantities of
buckwheat, Indian meal and Graham flour, to make one quart, add half a cup of
new yeast, a tea-spoonful of saleratus, a little salt and enough good milk, or
luke warm water to make a thick batter. Set it near the fire to rise, and when
risen, cook them in a well buttered griddle.

Quotation
for the Day.

“That's a good girl. I find you are
perfectly qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the
gooseberry-pie.”

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Today I want to continue giving you some kitchen
wisdom from old cookery books. The principles of saving fuel, money and time are
timeless, and I am sure that the following advice is just as relevant today as
when it was written. See if you agree.

From "Win the war"
Cook Book (1918) published by St. Louis county unit, Woman's committee,
Council of National Defense, here are a few ideas to save kitchen fuel.

TO SAVE GAS OR FUEL

Save Gas: Never leave burner lighted while preparing material -
better to use an extra match.

When oven is used plan to bake at same time a roast, apples,
potatoes and a pudding or cake.

The boiling point is 212 F. No amount of heat will make it higher.
Notice this and turn flame accordingly.

There are three-cornered sauce pans: 3 vegetables or sauces may be
cooked at one time.

And here is some further advice from: Jennie June's American Cookery Book (New York, 1870), by Jane
Cunningham Croly.

Arrange work so as
to save fuel as much as possible. Mix bread at night, so that it will be ready
to bake with that "first fire" which always makes the oven hot in the
morning. Prepare fruit over night, so that pies or other things can be quickly
made and baked immediately after. Prepare hashes for breakfast, over night.
Have the kitchen and dining room put in order before retiring to rest. Have
kindlings and whatever is needed for building fires laid ready, and the fire in
the kitchen raked down, so that it can be built up in the shortest possible
space of time. This is not only a saving in the morning, but will be found
useful in case of illness in the night, when a fire is often required at a
moment's notice.

Try to buy in as
large quantities as possible, so as to save the perpetual running out to the
grocery. Supplies on hand also enable the housekeeper to provide a more varied
table, with far greater economy than is possible where everything is bought by
the half a pound, more or less.

Every family that
can possibly find means to do it, or a place to properly keep the articles,
should commence winter with fuel, potatoes, apples, flour, and butter, enough
to last till Spring. A good supply of hominy, rice, farina, Indian meal,
preserved fish, and other staples, including sugar, should also be laid in, not
forgetting a box of raisins, one of currants, a third of soap, and a fourth of
starch.

There is such an
immense saving in soap well dried, that it is surprising so many housekeepers
content themselves with buying it in damp bars. Starch also is frightfully
wasted by quarter, and half pound purchases, which are frequently all absorbed
at one time, by careless girls, in doing the washing for a small family.

Regularity is the
pivot upon which all household management turns; where there is a lack of
system there is a lack of comfort, that no amount of individual effort can
supply. Forethought also is necessary, so that the work may be all arranged
beforehand; done in its proper order, and at the right time. Never, except in
cases of extreme emergency, allow Monday's washing to be put off till Tuesday;
Tuesday's ironing till Wednesday, or Wednesday's finishing up and "setting
to rights," till Thursday. Leave Thursday for extra work; or when that is
not required, for resting day, or half holiday, and as a preparation for the up
stairs' sweeping and dusting of Friday, and the downstairs' baking and
scrubbing of Saturday.

As the recipe for the day, I give you a
little something from Jennie June:

Mock Duck.

Procure a steak cut from the rump of beef, and fill it with a
dressing made of chopped bread, pork, sage, onions and sweet marjoram, and well-seasoned;
sew it up, put a slice or two of pork, or some of the dressing, on the top, and
set it in a pan, into which pour a pint of water; cover down tight, and let it
cook slowly in the oven three hours; then take off the lid, brown quickly, and
serve hot.

Quotation for the Day.

The object of cooking is to make food healthful, and palatable; the
secret is therefore, how to combine elements and flavors, so as to produce the
best results.

Monday, June 18, 2012

This week (on Wednesday) I am off to England for a holiday, and to
participate in the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery.How lucky am I ?

My plan is to pre-post a story for every weekday while I am away, so,
barring attack by the cyber-gremlins of the blogosphere, they will appear at
the same time as usual. Those of you who like the stories delivered to your email
box will get them too, although at fairly erratic hours, as I get opportunity to
send them.

As is usual when a trip is imminent, I am firmly in the grip of the
inevitable last-minute clearing of the decks, but before I go there is time to
give you some ideas and kitchen wisdom from old cookery books.

If you have ever lost sleep wondering what you would do until the
repair man came if your oven thermostat broke down, the advice below, from the
era long before oven thermometers should give you an interim strategy. It is
from the section on ‘Pastry’ from Culture
and Cooking: or, Art in the Kitchen, (New York, 1881) by Catherine Owen.

The condition of the oven is a very important matter, and I cannot
do better than transcribe the rules

given by Gouffe, by which you may test its fitness for any purpose
:

Put half a sheet of writing paper in the oven; if it catches fire
it is too hot; open the dampers and wait

ten minutes, when put in another piece of paper ; if it blackens it
is still too hot. Ten minutes later put in a third piece; if it gets dark brown
the oven is right for all small pastry. Called "dark brown paper
heat." Light brown paper heat is suitable for vol-au-vents or fruit pies.
Dark yellow paper heat for large pieces of pastry or meat pies, pound cake,
bread, etc. Light yellow paper heat for sponge cake, meringues, etc.

To obtain these various degrees of heat, you try paper every ten
minutes till the heat required for your purpose is attained. But remember that
"light yellow" means the paper only tinged; "dark yellow,"
the paper the color of ordinary pine wood; "light brown" is only a
shade darker, about the color of nice pie-crust, and dark brown a shade darker,
by no means coffee color.

As the recipe for the day, from the same book, here is a good idea
for your leftover pastry trimmings.

Pastry Tablets.

Cut strips of paste three
inches and a half long, and an inch and a half wide, and as thick as a twenty
-five cent piece; lay on half of them a thin filmy layer of jam or marmalade,
not jelly; then on each lay a strip without jam, and bake in a quick oven. When
the paste is well risen and brown, take them out, glaze them with white of egg,
and sugar, and sprinkle chopped almonds over them; return to the oven till the
glazing is set and the almonds just colored; serve them hot or cold on a napkin
piled log- cabin fashion.

Quotation of the Day.

Life is so brief that we should not glance either too far backwards
or forwards…therefore study how to fix our happiness in our glass and in our
plate.